


Reasons to Lie

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crowley and Feelings, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lots of Angst, M/M, Reckless Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, With A Twist, dean's in trouble, everyone's in trouble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been acting suspiciously on the same day of every year. All Sam and Cas can do is question: "Why?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past

**_Three Years Ago_ **

Sam’s eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean leaned forward, “you okay?”

With a snort and a couple hard blinks, Sam returned his brother’s gaze.

“I’m fine, Dean. In fact, I’ve been fine the other fifteen times you’ve asked.”

“What?” Dean shrugged innocently. “Now I’m not allowed to be concerned? I thought you were always telling me to show some emotion.”

“Concern would be fine, but this is just creepy.”

“Well maybe if you’d stop looking like you forgot to get the license plate, I’d leave you alone.”

Sam’s eyes squinted again.

“What license plate?”

“The one off the truck that obviously ran over your face!” Dean pointed enthusiastically at Sam’s blackened eyes and split lip. “Have you seen the way you look right now?”

Sam stood up and stretched his neck with eyes closed. When they reopened, he saw Dean rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Sammy,” came the predictable sigh, “you’ve got to take better care of yourself.”

Dean stood, went to his room, and closed the door.

Although Sam’s voice could carry across a crowded dining hall whenever necessary, his voice now sounded broken and far away. The word was so low and so soft that it could almost have been a sigh itself.

“Why?”

* * *

 

**_Two Years Ago_ **

Sam leaned forward on his elbows, face in his palms. He released a deep breath, spread apart his fingers, and noticed Dean watching from the other side of the room. Nonchalantly running a hand through his hair, Sam smiled unconvincingly.

“Well, I’m ready for bed,” he stated, raising his eyebrows a little.

“Sammy,” Dean began.

“I wasn’t gonna let it kill you, Dean,” Sam spoke through gritted teeth. He stared into his brother’s eyes and shook his head slowly. “Did you want me to let you die?”

“Yes!” Dean stood, throwing his bag on the ground. “Yes, Sam! If something’s got me and it’s winning, you leave me right there and run – you don’t walk in and expect to save the day! If you die saving me, I won’t be grateful!”

“How could I live knowing that my brother died, and I did nothing to stop it?”

“Happily, preferably,” Dean raised his hands and shrugged. “If not happily, at least alive! Sammy, you need to take better care of yourself.”

“I’m not the one who keeps diving into fights I can’t win, Dean!” Sam stepped forward, pointed at Dean’s dislocated shoulder, and titled his head in a grimace. “Seriously, Dean, what have you been thinking? You’re reckless, out of control, you get ideas for cases we know nothing about… it’s like you have a death wish, man!”

Dean stepped directly in front of his brother.

“This is not about me,” Dean snapped. “You are letting yourself down, Sam. Stop being the martyr and at least try to care about what you’re doing.”

Dean grabbed his leather jacket and stormed from the room, leaving Sam to his thoughts. As soon as the door closed, the soft whisper came once again, like a breeze through the room.

“Why?”

* * *

 

 

**_One Year Ago_ **

Sam grinned and clapped the angel on the back.

“Way to go, Cas,” he laughed. “You’re officially on my do-not-mess-with list.”

As Castiel squinted, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Okay, the demons are gone now. Can we hurry up?”

He hurried away from the pair, glancing anxiously from side to side. When he was out of earshot, Cas tilted his head.

“There seems to be something wrong with your brother, Sam.”

“You noticed it, too, huh?”

“There’s something he’s not telling us about this hunt.” Castiel’s eyes followed the direction in which Dean had stomped. “There’s something he doesn’t want us to know.”

“Yeah, just like the hunt last year, and the year before that. Every year to the day, he goes on a hunt like this, where he gets reckless and desperate.”

“Is the date significant to either of you?” Blue, piercing eyes gazed up at Sam expectantly.

“I don’t think so. At least, not that I remember.”

The angel said nothing, but his body shifted to look Sam straight on. Before his mouth opened, however, Dean reappeared with a grimace.

“Hey! Will you two stop flirting and hurry up?”

Sam looked guiltily at Dean while Cas stared pensively at Sam. Together, the two whispered under their breath.

“Why?”


	2. The Present: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Dean's motivations is revealed.

**_Now_ **

While Cas snored softly, Dean woke. He kissed Cas’ shoulder softly, his lips lingering on the soft skin and his eyes squeezed shut. The clock in the outside square chimed. Midnight.

Sam’s snoring guarded the halls as Dean went out, his fingers catching for just a moment on the door handle.

“Why?”

Dean startled, spinning with a knife poised in front of him. Instead of the usual monster, however, he saw Cas, still shirtless and sleepy.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Go back to sleep, Cas,” Dean whispered loudly.

“You know, you’re not fooling anyone. Sam knows something’s wrong, and we both know it has to do with today.” Cas yawned openly before finishing his thought. “Every year on this date. Beginning three years ago. Why?”

Dean’s head fell back and hit the door. He leaned into the door for support, deliberately stabbing the frame with his knife before he took a breath.

“Cas, there’s just something I have to do,” he said.

“Let us help,” Cas suggested, stepping forward. He slowly raised a hand, making sure Dean wouldn’t slap it away. When Dean didn’t react, he grabbed his hand. “Let me help.”

While Cas stroked Dean’s hand with his thumb, Dean shook his head.

“I can’t,” Dean whispered, leaning into Cas. He rested his forehead on Cas’. “I just can’t.”

“That’s not good enough, Dean,” Cas said firmly.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, lifting his head. Cas’ brow furrowed. With one swift motion, Dean knocked Cas unconscious. “So sorry, Cas.”

He fled.

Dean was at a crossroads within minutes. He buried a box of what seemed like random objects and stood patiently.

“Well, well,” came the predictable and irritating voice. “If it isn’t Dean bloody Winchester! Back again?”

Dean turned and saw him. He was dressed in his usual black, with a red carnation pinned to his suit.

“How’ve you been?” he smiled with menacing politeness.

“Crowley,” Dean growled, knife in hand.

“I hear you’ve really been making your way in my direction,” Crowley grinned. “Lies may be venial sins, but those buggers can sneak up on you. Better watch out or you’ll land yourself in hell before your contract’s up!”

“I want to make another deal,” Dean said, tossing his knife aside.

Crowley stepped back and hummed with surprise. “Oh really? This I didn’t expect. What can I do for you that I haven’t already done?”

Dean said nothing.

“’Save my brother,’ you asked. I did so. ‘Save my fallen angel,’ you begged. I did. What can you possibly have left to interest me? Besides, you only have one year left. There isn’t much else you can give me.”

“Yes there is,” Dean whispered grimly. “You can have my god forsaken soul the minute you do what I ask.”

“Now, there is a desperate little boy,” Crowley beamed. “And what, may I ask, would you like? A nice house for them to live in? A star named after you? Another quarter inch?”

“No,” Dean sighed. “I want you.”

Crowley stopped smiling while his brain processed the new information. After a long pause, the king of hell lost his composure and asked with genuine surprise…

“Why?”


	3. A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is more interested than anything by Dean's request. But why is Dean so determined to make yet another deal?

“I don’t want this anymore,” Dean whispered. “I’ve had enough. I want you to take over. You can have my mind, my body. Possess me, or don’t, I don’t care. I just know I’m done.”

Crowley leaned backward and pursed his lips.

“Now this doesn’t sound like the Dean Winchester I know,” he said.

Dean clenched his jaw while Crowley turned around, checking for any traps or tricks. All he saw was a knife tossed far from Dean.

“What happened to you?” Crowley asked, crossing his arms in front of him. There was a tone of genuine concern beneath his usual sardonic facade.

“Are you gonna take the deal or not?” Dean asked, growling more than anything.

“Is there a downside to this?” Crowley whispered to himself.

After a moment, Dean stepped forward and reached out, grabbing Crowley’s shoulder.

“Decide,” Dean commanded.

Crowley’s brow furrowed and he said, “It seems too much like mercy to do that for you.”

“Is that your answer?” Dean asked, dropping his hand.

“I’ll tell you what,” Crowley said, “I’ll make a different deal with you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his eyes glazed with exhaustion.

“I will possess you, but not for your soul. You’ll still be here, fully aware. We’ll call it a fun game of Jekyll and Hyde.”

“I don’t want any control,” Dean said softly.

“So you’ll watch from the background while Hyde runs loose?”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath.

Crowley hummed contemplatively. Finally, he nodded. “An experiment,” he said. “Sam and Cas will know, of course, as soon as I walk into a room. I can’t pull off pretending to be you.”

Dean nodded. “Just leave them alone.”

Crowley took a deep breath. “I don’t understand this, squirrel. What brought this on?”

“Once we make this deal, once you possess me, you’ll be able to see what’s in my mind. Then you’ll find out.” Dean stepped closer to the king of hell. “Now, are we making this deal or not?”

Crowley smiled, the worry in his eyes overshadowed by curiosity. He leaned in.

“Yes,” he whispered, his breath running hot over Dean’s lips. “I accept your deal.”

Their lips met. Dean’s hands came to life and grasped the back of Crowley’s coat. Crowley’s eyes opened wide with surprise, but there was no danger. Crowley was too confused to be aroused as Dean moved closer, never getting close enough to be content. He rubbed his hips against Crowley’s, pulling him closer and stuffing his thumbs into Crowley’s back pockets.

Finally, Crowley became less tense. He closed his eyes, licked Dean’s lips open, and sent his red smoke into Dean.

There was a moment of haziness as Dean’s hands dropped away from the empty space where Crowley’s body used to be. Then, a shiver and the blackness of demon’s eyes looking out from Dean’s face. Dean smiled.

“Hold on tight, Jekyll,” Dean said. “We’re about to have a big night on the town.”


	4. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Sam and Cas take a moment to understand what may have happened to Dean, a bar eight states east deals with an unexpected philanthropist.

Sam woke up uneasily, still exhausted after ten hours of sleep. When he got out of his room, he saw Dean’s door open, his bed empty.

“Dean?” he called, wiping his eyes.

“He’s not here,” Cas answered from the sitting room.

Cautiously, Sam turned the corner to see Cas sitting on the floor in front of the couch with his head on the couch seat cushion, eyes facing the ceiling. Sam looked at the big yellowish bruise on Cas’ temple.

“Hook shot,” Cas answered intuitively. “I think he wanted me to wake up disoriented and with a splitting headache.”

“Oh my god, Cas,” Sam whispered loudly. He ran to the freezer to get a bag of frozen peas only to find two bags already thawed on the counter.

“I already iced it,” Cas said after a deep breath.

By the time Sam returned to the sitting room, Cas’ eyes were closed and he was taking deep, slow breaths.

“Dean really did this to you?” Sam asked lightly, looking at the door and trying to imagine what must have happened.

Cas sighed. “He said there was something he needed to do, and he said we couldn’t help.”

“We’re going after him, right?”

Cas’ eyes opened slowly. He winced as he lifted his head. At first Cas couldn’t tell if he was turning to face Sam or if the entire living room was turning in front of him. Sam, meanwhile, noticed the glazed look in Cas’ eyes and frowned.

“You need rest, Cas,” he said emotionlessly. “Let me help you onto the couch.”

They fell over each other and slipped their hands in odd places as they tried to maneuver in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. Eventually, Cas was lying down with a blanket on top of him.

“Sam?” Cas asked silently.

Sam knew all kinds of fear, and he recognized the kind Cas felt the moment he spoke. Most people only ever felt one of two kinds of fear: the frantic, painful, immediate fear that came in dire situations or with some panic disorders, or the slow burning crescendo of fear that came after a long anticipation or along with grave news. Rarely did people feel a third kind of fear, yet there it was in Cas’ voice. A blank, empty, echoing fear that came from so deep in the core that by the time it reached the surface, it was barely discernible. That fear was so permanent and embedded that it showed almost no physical signs. Cas’ breaths were even, his heartbeat regular, and his voice steady. The only indication that something was off came in the way he spoke. Slowly, deliberately, as if his entire world had slowed down around him, he spoke with purpose.

Sam’s heart ached when Cas’ eyes watered before him.

“Yeah Cas?” he answered, his voice cracking.

“Do you think he’d try to kill himself?” Though Cas’ tone revealed that he already knew the answer, Sam began to shake his head in denial. Before he could speak, however, Cas closed his eyes and fell into a slow, fitful sleep.

 

Dean hopped onto the bar counter and grinned.

“A round on me!” he shouted to the cheering of many.

Laughing, he jumped down beside a tall, gorgeous brunette.

“Why hello,” he smiled. “Can I interest you in a body shot?”

The brunette smiled, raised an eyebrow, and replied, “I don’t do shots.”

Dean stepped closer, “Well, there are other things to be done with a body.”

The brunette leaned in. “Like what?” she asked innocently.

Dean tilted his head and reached into his pocket.

“Like,” he whispered an inch from her lips, “this.”

Quickly, he turned, removing a blade from his pocket.

“I hope you all don’t mind!” he cried happily. “It’s nothing personal. I just want to do a little experiment, and unfortunately, that means that you all have to die.”

Most of the drunken patrons of the bar smiled stupidly, but one or two stood up in confusion. The brunette behind giggled until she noticed the knife in Dean’s hand.

Dean turned slowly and smiled at her.

“Ladies first,” he said. His eyes were solidly black.


	5. The Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley uncovers Dean's secret.

“Hey Jekyll,” Dean said to the mirror. “You awake?”

A vague silence answered.

“So, after three experiments,” Dean continued, “I’ve still gotten no adverse reaction from you. You were serious, then? You really want nothing to do with this anymore.”

The silence continued, but Dean’s eyes watered in response.

“I don’t understand,” Dean whispered genuinely. “You let me possess you, you let me kill with your hands, and you don’t care. I can’t even get a rise out of you. What the bloody hell happened?”

Tears fell onto Dean’s cheeks in reply. In the mirror, sad emerald eyes blinked weakly.

Crowley sifted through memories until he reached three years and one week ago. He felt Dean mentally turn his back as he viewed the beginning of it all.

 

_“Sammy,” came the predictable sigh, “you’ve got to take better care of yourself.”_

_Dean stood, went to his room, and closed the door._

_“Why?”_

_Dean, his back to the door, heard Sam’s response. He thought about rushing out and yelling. He thought about going out of the room and punching his brother. Instead, he just took a deep breath and opened his bedroom window. He looked out and down one story. He took a deep breath, spun his legs out of the windowsill, and fell down, tumbling to land. His ankle twisted, but he was otherwise fine. He limped away._

_He didn’t take the car, though he stroked its hood as he walked by. Instead, he just stepped slowly forward and across the parking lot, the sidewalk, the road. He landed in a bar, ordered a double whiskey, and took deep breaths._

_“You don’t look so good,” the barkeep noted. “Gonna be alright?”_

_Dean nodded, downing the whiskey quickly._

_After a couple hours, Dean was resting in one of the back booths of the bar with empty glasses covering the table. His eyes were closed, but he was awake, gripping his own jacket like his life depended on it._

_“Remind me,” his confidant said, “why you didn’t tell your brother about me.”_

_Dean sighed, grabbing an empty glass and putting it to his lips. He tilted his head back to get the very last drops from the cup._

_“I attacked your brother tonight, knocked him out, and you didn’t even try attacking me," the person said. "I didn’t raise you to be a coward.”_

_Dean frowned and glared at his father._

_“Sam doesn’t need to know,” Dean said firmly. “This is between you and me.”_

_“Are you really going to lie to your brother?” John Winchester said with hypocritical disapproval._

_“If I have to,” Dean nodded, “yes. You’re here about me, not Sam. I summoned you, I gave you back your body, and that makes you my responsibility. I have my reasons to lie to Sam.”_

_“Lying is always convenient,” his father agreed. John leaned back in the booth and shook his head. “You know there’s only one way to stop me, right?”_

_Dean closed his eyes again._

_“Hey, you brought me back, remember?” John crossed his arms in front of him, grimacing. “You brought me back stupidly, using some ritual you knew nothing about. This is all on you, Dean.”_

_“I know,” Dean snapped. “The longer you’re here, the worse you’ll get. I have to kill you. Just give me a minute.”_

_John shook his head. “No, this ritual wasn’t even for just me. You used a wrong word in it. You know what that means?”_

_Dean’s brow furrowed when he saw the pain and regret in John’s eyes._

_“You didn’t just summon me,” John said. “There are three of us.”_

_“Mom?” Dean asked, snapping to attention. He shook his head desperately, shaking away his drunken stupor and replacing it with fear._

_John Winchester nodded. “Your mother, me, and Bobby. You brought all three of us back. I don’t know what you were thinking, but the longer we’re here, the worse we’ll get.”_

_Dean shook his head. “I didn’t mean to do this. I just wanted to talk to you. Then you started attacking, and you got Sam. He didn’t even recognize you.”_

_John shrugged. “To everyone else, I’m what they expect. The barkeep probably sees me as a drunken old man, which is the closest to the real me, anyway. Sam just saw a beast trying to kill you.”_

_Dean’s head fell into his hands. “What did I do?”_


	6. Two Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas seek to uncover the beginning of Dean's problem while Crowley tries to understand the beginning of Dean's solution.

Sam reached over to awaken a snoring Cas. Blinking quickly, Cas sat up, shrugged off his blanket, and nodded. Without a word, he grabbed his angel blade and followed Sam out to the parking lot. The impala sat, abandoned, beside a rusted red truck.

“Where would he be?” Sam asked.

Cas frowned, blinked heavily, and went to the impala’s trunk to see if anything was missing.

He and Sam sorted through the weapons and other odd and ends that belonged there for almost an hour before they could remember what should have been there and wasn’t.

“He had the demon blade when he left,” Cas said, “but it looks like he took some graveyard dirt.”

Sam held up half of an FBI license issued to agent Osborn. “And he took a picture of himself.”

Within moments, Cas found the nearest crossroad to their hotel on a map, and the impala drove anxiously away.

 

Meanwhile, the king of hell enjoyed the surprising memories that Dean had tried to hide.

 

_John sighed. “You summoned three souls from heaven. We can’t go back. Once you kill us, we can only go to hell.”_

_Dean looked up, horrified. “Mom too?”_

_John growled in the back of his throat._

_Dean put his hand to his forehead, wiping sweat from his brow._

_“I can’t kill you,” he whispered._

_John shrugged. “We only exist one day a year. That’s the only time you can do it.” He glanced at the clock. “Today is almost up. Better do it soon, or you’ll have to wait another whole year.”_

_Dean shook his head._

_“What did you want to talk about, anyway?” John asked, anger masked by curiosity. “What could be so important?”_

_Dean looked down and whispered, “I thought you could help me to lie to Sam.”_

_“Oh? Lie about what?”_

_“I need a reason for him to get out of hunting, for good. I want him to be free of this shit.”_

_John laughed. “You of all people should’ve known that this isn’t something you can run away from. Now look what you’ve pulled yourself into – and your brother, too.”_

_The clock chimed._

_“Another hour and I’ll be gone ‘til next year.”_

_“I don’t want to send you to hell,” Dean whispered, hands pulling his hair._

_“It’ll get worse if you leave me out,” John answered as the clock chimed for the fifth time. “I’m not human, Dean. I spent so long in heaven, I’m not even sure what I am. Whatever ritual you used backfired. You know, when I died, I intended to stay dead.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “Forgive me.”_

_John looked his son up and down. “You have no more time for regret, Dean. You have to kill me now. Next Bobby. Then your mother. They'll come after you, so keep your eyes open. The longer they're out of heaven, the more vengeful they'll get. They'll attack whatever will hurt you the most.”_

_Dean looked with his watering eyes up at his father. John passed a knife to his son and nodded._

_"Protect your brother," John said. "Maybe you could even tell him the truth."_

_Dean shook his head. "No, I can't. If anything, I have my reason to lie now."_

_John Winchester shrugged and leaned forward. The clock chimed for the eleventh time._

_"Remember," he said, "you're the only one who can kill us."_

Sam scratched at the gravel until he found the box.

“Dean,” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t suicide,” Cas answered as a proxy. “It’s punishment.”

The two of them checked the surroundings, finding nothing but a faint trace of sulfur.

 

Crowley’s brow furrowed.

“Who was responsible for Sam’s death the next year?”

Dean swallowed hard and looked away.

“Bobby Singer,” Crowley grinned. “I always did like him.”

Dean’s nose ran as a tear fell from his eye.

“So was it mommy or daddy Winchester that killed your fallen angel?” Crowley smirked.

Dean’s eyes froze in the mirror, desperately trying to hide.

“So you killed your daddy before he killed anyone. Then Bobby kills the moose,” Crowley recapped, “and you trade your soul to me to save him. Then the next year, mommy kills your boyfriend, so you give me your soul sooner to save him. You want to go to hell, don’t you?”

Dean looked into the sink.

“You think you deserve it?” Crowley said, smiling. Underneath his joy, however, a small snake of sorrow coiled in his stomach.

“This all happened because of me. I think I deserve worse,” Dean responded quietly.

“Jekyll lives!” Crowley exclaimed.

“You were supposed to leave me in peace,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “You can have my body and soul, but leave my mind in peace. That was our deal.”

Crowley snickered, ignoring him. “And you’d give anything to keep moose from finding out, wouldn’t you?”

“I _gave_ everything,” Dean responded sullenly.

“Well,” Crowley stretched contentedly, “I don’t know what I expected. I never thought you would be stupid enough to tamper with magic you knew nothing about. You should have come to me; I would have helped you.”

 

“Think, Sam,” Cas pushed. “Think what might have happened three years ago.”

Sam tapped his foot and pressed his hand to his temple.

“It was an ordinary year,” Sam answered, exasperated. “We hunted as usual. I suggested we hunt down Crowley and end him for good, and Dean tried to convince me to let it go.”

“And then he started acting strange?” Cas prompted.

“Yes. He went missing for a couple days at first. When he came back, he said we needed to go on a hunt, but he didn’t know exactly what it was. At least, he didn’t tell me anything. Then we were attacked by this creature… I can’t even describe it, but Dean looked petrified before he managed to fight it off of me.”

“So it began when you suggested killing Crowley?”

Sam nodded with a shrug. “I guess so. I wanted revenge for all of the shit we’ve been through, but Dean thought it would be a losing battle. I threatened to do it without him, and that’s when he disappeared for a while.”

Cas paced, letting the information percolate.

“He wanted to save Crowley?” Cas frowned. “Why?”


	7. The Present: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost a year has passed. In that time, Crowley has worn Dean's body as his own as Dean sat idly inside, dreading what he knew was coming. When the anniversary is almost upon them, Dean asks Crowley an unexpected question while Sam and Cas prepare to execute their plan of action.

_**11 months later** _

“Hyde?” Dean whispered.

‘Elated’ was not a strong enough word to describe the feeling that came from Crowley.

“Jekyll!” he beamed. “How goes the day?”

Though they were conversing inside of Dean’s mind, they each intuitively understood the other’s actions. Crowley felt Dean rub his eyes in exhaustion before responding, he felt Dean take a very deep breath, and he felt Dean brace himself by tensing his shoulders.

“I have a question for you, Crowley.”

In reply, he received a curious silence.

“Sam returned some of your humanity. I want to know if you wished he’d restored it all.”

Crowley’s joy faded. His eyes narrowed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Dean could feel him slowly shifting through emotions: anger, fear, worry, curiosity, gratitude, shame, pride. Finally, Crowley reached a point where he felt only apprehension.

“Why?”

 

Biting his lip, Sam said nothing. He stared blankly out of their hotel room window.

Cas exhaled heavily. “Do you really think this will work? Dean has been dodging us for months now; I don’t think he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t know that,” Sam said. “We don’t know what deal he made at the crossroads that night. He could have had a plan that we just didn’t know about.”

Cas’ skepticism left a tangible thickness in the air.

Indifferently, Sam swept a hand through his hair. “This plan will work. We’re not just propping up a box over a burger. This isn’t a trap he can escape from, Cas.”

Grabbing his jacket hastily, he walked to the door.

“Let’s go. It’s almost time.”

 

For weeks, Crowley and Dean had shared a consciousness. Crowley understood even before Dean when Dean no longer required the quiet or absence he’d once craved. Often, Dean would even control his own body. He would walk through a park or go eat a burger, always with Crowley walking beside him. When it became overwhelming, Dean would simply lean into Crowley, who would gently take over once again.

For weeks, Crowley recalled, he had helped Dean recover from the edge. He’d brought Dean back from apathy. He, Crowley, was responsible for Dean’s rehabilitation.

Not yet had Crowley realized the implications of his relationship with Dean. Not yet had he noticed the crutch he’d become. Even now – now that Dean tried so hard to suppress his gratitude, now that Dean tried to ignore his growing affection, now that Dean tried to stifle the warmth in his cheeks when Crowley saved him from himself – even now, Crowley could hardly comprehend how he’d allowed himself to be so _human_.

Crowley knew how he should react: he should be furious at Dean for daring to ask such a question, he should be disgusted with himself for showing such weakness to Dean, and he should be desperate to contradict the idea that he, Crowley, the king of Hell, would _ever_ want to be more human. Instead of feeling the way he should, however, he felt only confusion.

“I can see past the lie,” Dean said quietly, “and I know why you need to hide behind it. Your reasons to lie are clear, Crowley. I just know that I owe you, and I want to know how I can repay the debt.”

Crowley struggled to find an appropriate response.

“I want to help you,” Dean said. “If you want to be human, I can help you.”

“It wouldn’t close the gates of hell,” Crowley argued.

“That’s not the point.”

Crowley blinked rapidly to wash away the shock of the conversation.

“Crowley, do you want to be human?”

Without a second thought, Crowley escaped. Red smoke drifted in the wind, leaving Dean staring emptily out of the open window of the hotel room.


	8. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although Dean knows the anniversary of his mistake is coming soon, he has to set that battle aside when he suddenly discovers that Sam and Cas are in trouble and need his help.

Cas broke into a sweat. Around him, the orange flames rose ever higher. Breathe deeply, he reminded himself. Breathe.

Time. The concept of time fascinated Castiel. He was alive before time existed. He remembered when no one could measure the duration of a life. Life simply occurred and ended, without a need to focus on the length. Time was a construct of man’s, a construct to help them organize themselves.

‘These humans,’ he’d thought to himself long ago, ‘are creating a world just as my father did. They are sculpting the land, forming words and songs. This invention of time is from their own minds. Perhaps humans, despite their fragility, do not need us after all. They seem capable of being shepherds of their own destinies.’

Now, Castiel admired the creation of time in a different way. No longer was time a calculation, an exact art, a mere measurement. As he waited, trapped within a ring of fire, time was his torturer.

With a smirk, Cas exhaled heavily. Man is a masochist, he thought, to have created the idea of time.

 

Dean sat against the driver’s seat, alone for the first time in months. He stared blankly at the windshield.

“Where are you, Crowley?” he thought.

 

Sam left the grocery store with a newspaper in hand. He stared at the classifieds smartly.

 

Dean drove until he reached a gas station outside of town. There, he fueled his car and himself while reading a newspaper. He stopped eating mid-burger when he read through one of the classifieds.

’67 Chevrolet Impala, seats five comfortably, eight maximum. Ample storage, good mileage.  
Inquire after a Mister Wesson, resident of Funky Town. Purchase will fund salvaging the bed and breakfast  
named ‘Thursday’s Guardian’

“Funky town… Thursday’s guardian,” Dean whispered under his breath. His eyes widened. “Cas is in trouble.”

He tossed the rest of his lunch away and practically jumped into the car before speeding off.

 

Cas was sweating. Droplets of it fell into his eyes and down his nose and chin.

“Come on, Dean,” he whispered anxiously. “Figure it out.”

 

Dean rushed into the first motel in the phone book and asked to speak with a Mister Wesson.

“Room one-fifteen,” the man working the front desk answered as he handed over the key.

Dean rushed down the hallway with panic in his eyes.

‘What day is it?’ he thought to himself. ‘How long do I have?’

Finally, he shakily slid the key into the door and opened it.

No one was in the room. There were pieces of paper scattered over the bed, and the address of an abandoned warehouse was circled in red. Also written were the words ‘something’s stuck to my shoe’ in Sam’s sloppiest writing.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered.

His mind immediately imagined the worst. Cas must have been kidnapped, and the villains had captured Sam now, too. Dean gripped the paper with the circled address firmly in hand before running back to his car.

“Crowley!” he grumbled. “I could use some help right about now!”

Dean was shaking so badly that he had to try three different times to start the car. Finally, he was off again in search of the warehouse. During the drive, he tried to remember the date. He knew what was coming. He was running out of time.

 

Sam took a deep breath and nodded to Castiel.

“The manager of the motel just called,” he said quietly. “Dean’s on his way.”

Cas took a deep breath.

 

Dean took a moment to hastily scan the outside of the building. There were no obvious signs that demons were present, and vampires would be hiding inside anyway. After composing himself, Dean rushed forward stealthily. Nothing approached him, and he eventually made it to the large metal warehouse door. Dean made sure his gun was ready. He had holy water in a bottle in his jacket pocket and there was an entire container of salt stuffed in the other side. He nodded to himself before sliding the door quickly.

“Cas?” Dean sighed with concern and relief. The angel was standing within a circle of holy fire. Dean dropped his guard and ran forward. “Cas!”

“Dean!” Cas answered.

His voice betrayed him, however, with a note of impatient anger. Though it was subtle, Dean slowed in response to it. Then, something heavy and hard hit him in the back of his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

 

When he came to, Dean was tied expertly to a chair. Cas, no longer trapped in a ring of fire, stood in front of him beside Sam. Dean pulled against the confines for a moment before he could fully understand his situation.

“We need to talk,” Sam said simply.


	9. The Truth: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Cas are finally going to learn the truth.

“You lied about this?” Dean growled angrily. In the back of his throat grew a vicious snarl. “How could you lie about being in trouble like that? You know better!”

Cas looked on with concern while Sam pulled up a second chair to face Dean. Slowly, Sam showed Dean newspaper headings from over the past eleven months.

“There are bigger issues,” Sam finally concluded, showing an article complete with a picture of Dean’s obscured grin. “What the hell have you been doing this past year?”

Dean shook his head and said, “Don’t you lie to me about needing help. It’s not funny, Sam.”

“That’s what we’re trying to make you understand,” Cas supplied gently. “Don’t put on a brave face when you clearly need help. Let us work with you. Whatever you’re doing must be important.”

Dean shook his head again. Then he froze. The blood drained from Dean’s face and he grew as pale as paper. His eyes widened and he glanced from one side of the room to the other.

“What day is it?” he asked suddenly. “What’s the date?”

Sam rolled his eyes, annoyed that Dean was so intent upon changing the subject. Cas, however, could see how tense Dean had become. Quietly, Cas answered Dean.

Instead of being calmed by the response, Dean’s eyes grew even wider and he struggled harder against the ropes.

“Hyde!” he shouted loudly in a sort of desperate growl. “Hyde!”

A part of him didn’t expect Crowley to return, but he soon felt the breeze that indicated his arrival. Crowley quickly reviewed the situation before regaining his composure and snapping his fingers. The ropes around Dean loosened. As Dean frantically unwound himself, Crowley addressed the other two.

“Moose!” he grinned. “I’d watch out if I were you. The angel over your shoulder seems a little bit too happy with that blade in his hand.”

Indeed, Castiel was holding his angel blade at the ready behind his back while glaring at Crowley. Sam, too, pulled out his knife quickly, but Crowley only seemed bored. Lazily, he looked over at Dean with a silent question.

“You called?” he smiled.

Dean nodded and stepped out of the last of the ropes.

“Two hours,” Dean said.

Crowley blinked.

“Two hours?”

Dean nodded quickly and walked forward. Cas looked on as Sam reached out to stop his brother from approaching Crowley.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “Look, I don’t care what deal you made with him.”

Dean stepped back.

“How do you know about that?” he asked lowly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam waved dismissively. “You don’t have to go with him. We can solve this together. Please, Dean, let us help you. Tell us what you need.”

Dean looked up at Crowley, who was finally comprehending what Dean was so anxious about.

“I thought,” Crowley said quietly to Dean, “you’d already taken care of them?”

Dean looked visibly distressed when Cas stiffened.

“Taken care of who?” Cas asked sadly. “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean turned from Crowley to Cas to Sam and back again. Suddenly, his breathing became shallow and he doubled over, his hands on his knees. As he tried to focus on his breathing, Crowley understood what was happening. Usually, at this point, he would simply possess Dean and give him a break. This time, however, he wondered if he would make it away alive with Castiel and Sam standing so near to Dean.

“Dean,” Cas said softly. All of the sudden, Cas was wrapped around Dean, his cheek pressed against Dean’s. He dropped his blade and rubbed Dean’s spine reassuringly. “Dean, please. Let us help you.”

Dean shook his head against Cas.

“I can’t watch you die again,” he whispered.

Cas’s brow furrowed as he processed Dean’s words.

“We didn’t die,” Sam said. “We’re right here.”

Crowley laughed, and all three of them turned to see him with a hand over his mouth to hide the smirk.

“Yes, you’re right,” Crowley grinned. “You’re both here, but at what cost?”

Dean frowned deeply and grabbed Cas’s coat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Dean, we’re alive,” Cas said, turning from Dean to Crowley. “What did you do?”

Crowley folded his arms in front of him and threw and indignant look in Cas’s direction. Sam grimaced, but he waited to hear what was happening.

“Me?” Crowley gasped, acting insulted. “Why, I didn’t do anything that Dean here didn’t want me to. I suppose you two should be thanking me for accepting his deals, anyway. Without them, you wouldn’t even be here.”

“What?” Sam said, dumbfounded.

“You died last year,” Dean whispered to Cas. “The year before that, Sam died.”

As Cas and Sam stared at Dean in horror, Crowley smiled and nodded.

“Yes, and I was promised Dean’s poor little soul in ten years when I brought the moose back. When I brought the angel back, I was to receive his soul in just two years.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “Why would you do that?”

Crowley gave a very dramatic sigh.

“Jekyll,” he said with a hint of embarrassment from their last encounter. “Am I free to go, or do you need any more assistance?”

While Sam shouted that Crowley would stay there until they could figure out what was going on, Dean looked Crowley in the eyes and shook his head.

‘Go,’ his eyes said. ‘Thank you.’

Crowley eyes dimmed with seriousness, silently responding, ‘An hour and a half, Dean. Keep an eye on the clock.’

In a second, Crowley was gone.

Sam shouted for the coward to return, but Dean leaned forward into Cas. Cas put his hand through Dean’s hair, closed his eyes, and whispered into Dean’s ear.

“You saved us,” he said. “How did we die?”

When Sam stopped fuming, Dean stepped back and took a deep breath.

“Four years ago, I found this ritual,” he began quietly.

Soon, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, explaining that Bobby had killed Sam and Mary had killed Cas. Dean choked on the confession, ashamed and afraid as he revealed that in his ignorance, he’d doomed three resting souls to an eternity in hell. Then, he forced himself to explain that he'd willingly acted as a meat suit for Crowley, who'd made the headlines that Sam now looked at from this corner of his eyes. When Sam and Cas thought it couldn't get any worse, Dean opened his mouth again to share one more horrifying truth with them.


	10. The Truth: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this flashback chapter, we see how both Sam and Cas died.

**_Sam’s Death_ **

_Dean held his knife loosely in hand. Long ago, he’d discovered the trick to throwing knives. The worn leather handle of the knife was held between his middle finger and his thumb. The knife itself was landing against the back of Dean’s hand, the cool silver just barely in contact with his hot skin. Dean inhaled slowly as the clock chimed the first time of twelve._

_“Dean, what are we hunting?” Sam asked with his gun in a steady and cautious hand. “What’s coming?”_

_“I don’t know,” Dean said lowly. The determination in his voice reassured Sam, though the mystery of what was coming left him ill at ease. “Be ready. When the clock strikes twelve, it’ll be here.”_

_Sam nodded and raised his gun higher. The clock chimed for the fourth time._

_Dean’s grip on his knife remained still and ready. John had said Bobby would come next. With a dry mouth and a tense jaw, Dean waited to see the familiar plaid shirt, blue ball cap, and iconic squint. He waited to see the Bobby that had taken him to play baseball, sneaked him in to see a movie in the theater, taught him how to fix an old truck in the junkyard. The only way to get through what came next was to set aside the memories and the emotions. Focus on the task, Dean said to himself firmly. Even in his mind, he winced at the memories of John growling at him to maintain focus._

_“Three more,” Sam whispered, looking from one direction to the other as the clock chimed for the ninth time._

_“Don’t let it get close,” Dean instructed emptily. “Kill it as soon as you see it.”_

_Sam shook off the unwanted doubts about the hunt. He held the anxiety and anticipation at bay while he stared into the dark night._

_Finally, the clock chimed its last._

_A bush rustled to Dean’s right. Before any thoughts could distract him or any memories could delay him, he brought his arm backward, felt the knife loose in his grip, and brought his arm forward with a snap of his wrist. The knife darted through the air._

_“Dean!” Sam shouted from several feet away._

_By the time Dean turned, he saw Bobby running forward, his face twisted in a snarl that he’d never before seen. Bobby glared at Dean._

_Gunshots, grunts, snaps, rips, and crinkles followed in quick succession. Dean rushed for the knife, retrieved it, and fell under Bobby’s momentum. In the meantime, Sam dropped his gun for fear of shooting Dean and instead ran forward._

_“A year,” Bobby growled loudly. Sam heard the snapping of the beasts maul, but Dean heard the deep rumble of a very familiar voice. “You took me from peace and left me here for an entire year!”_

_In a flash, Sam threw his hands around Bobby’s throat and pulled him off of Dean. With that cry of fury, Bobby changed targets easily, reached down swiftly, and tore into Sam’s shoulder with a knife. Sam screamed as the claws of the giant animal gouged into his arm. Desperately, he shifted his hips and tried to force the beast off of him._

_“You’d make your father proud!” Bobby shouted lividly._

_“Sammy!” Dean shouted, his voice cracking._

_Bobby continued to snap and tear and shout through Sam’s screams while Dean finally reached the beast and tackled it away. Together, Bobby and Dean tumbled three times around. Eventually, Dean sat beside a convulsing body. His knife was lodged deeply into Bobby’s skull._

_“Forgive me,” Dean whispered weakly, tears in his voice and eyes. “Please, Bobby, forgive me.”_

_Bobby’s dull blue eyes only glared as they faded into dark sleep. Dean held the body in his arms as long as he could before it eventually disappeared from his grip. Then, he turned tearfully toward his brother._

_“Sammy?”_

_He wasn’t moving._

_“Sam?”_

_Dean’s hand went to his hair and he looked around frantically._

_Sam leaned forward on his elbows, face in his palms. He released a deep breath, spread apart his fingers, and noticed Dean watching from the other side of the room. Nonchalantly running a hand through his hair, Sam smiled unconvincingly._

_“Well, I’m ready for bed,” he stated, raising his eyebrows a little._

_“Sammy.”_

* * *

 

**_Castiel’s Death_ **

_Dean stalked forward with a grimace._

_“Hey! Will you two stop flirting and hurry up?”_

_Sam looked guiltily at Dean while Cas stared pensively at Sam. Together, the two whispered under their breath._

_“Why?”_

_With a roll of his eyes, Dean walked away, that old leather knife tight in his hand. He looked anxiously in every direction. The last of the ritual could be ending that night. Dean could finally be free of the torture. He tried to stop the thought there, but the rest invaded his mind anyway: he could be free, yes, if he could only find the strength to send his mother to hell._

_“Dean, what’s coming?” Cas asked with a raspy voice. His hair was sticking up on end, not from fear but mistrust._

_“It looked like a wolf,” Sam answered suddenly. Dean became entirely still as he felt his heart double over with guilt.  “It was like a wolf mixed with a bear.”_

_While Cas tried to brainstorm with Sam about possible answers to the riddle of what they could expect, Dean stared into the night. They hadn’t come right at midnight this time. They’d been safe through the afternoon with Cas’s grace around them and Bobby’s old traps to protect them. Now, however, Dean knew they needed to attack before she disappeared for another year. With two hours left in the day, Dean took a deep breath._

_“It can come from anywhere,” he said to the others. “Keep your guard up.”_

_Right on cue, the beast rushed forward. Cas saw a mutated wolf and bear mix. Sam saw a larger creature than last year’s, with more teeth than he remembered. Dean, however, dropped his knife to the ground as a beautiful blonde stalked forward._

_“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shouted, rushing forward with a knife in hand._

_Dean stepped forward and opened his mouth, desperate to save his mother. He wanted to shout at Sam to stop, to look at what he was doing, to leave. Instead, he just watched as his mother wrapped her slender fingers around Sam’s throat, ignoring the knife in her side._

_Castiel, too, ran forward. The beast was tearing into Sam expertly, a very well-practiced predator. As Sam’s eyes rolled backward and the suffocation knocked him unconscious, Castiel reached out with a blue glowing hand._

_“Stop!” Dean shouted brokenly._

_Cas turned with confusion, and Mary seized the opportunity. Knocking Sam to the ground, she kicked the back of Cas’s knees. Cas fell forward, with concern for Dean still in his eyes, and landed face first on the ground._

_“This,” Mary said loudly to Dean, “is what time in heaven will give you.”_

_Suddenly, her hand was glowing white and she reached down to touch Castiel’s head. Just as she did, he turned and twisted his grace until it, too, burned into her._

_After an explosion of light, Dean rushed forward._

_Sam lay unconscious far away from the rest of them. Dean kneeled hopelessly over Cas’s now lifeless body. Mary, meanwhile, was stretched on her back with her eyes wide and gray._

_Midnight overcame them. Dean rolled Cas over onto his back and checked vainly for a pulse. He was so focused on finding a sign that Cas was still alive that he didn’t even notice when Mary stood quietly before disappearing._

_“Cas,” Dean whispered to the still warm body beneath him. His eyes were wide and blue, but they stared blankly, as if they were glass._


	11. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes up with a plan to finish things off once and for all. This plan, however, relies heavily on a certain demon with ulterior motives.

“Last year,” Cas whispered. “Did she die when…”

Slowly, Dean shook his head.

“You used your grace to stop her, but only I can kill her.” Dean’s voice shook in time with Sam’s clenching and unclenching fist. “Last year, I knew she’d come back for one of you. Now that you’re not a full-power angel, Cas, I knew I needed to help you stay safe. I warded the hotel room before you and Sam came back from getting us dinner. I knocked you out when I left so you would stay inside.”

“So,” Sam finally managed to say through gritted teeth, “she’s coming at midnight? In one hour, mom will be here trying to kill us?”

Dean’s tearful eyes were too ashamed to look into Sam’s. Instead he stared at Cas, who seemed caught between anger, sorrow, and love. Eventually, Cas stepped forward.

“Cas, this isn’t the time!” Sam huffed lowly. He was looking around in every direction anxiously, visibly considering every solution to their problem imaginable.

Ignoring him, Cas reached out to stroke Dean’s jawline with his thumb. With his eyes staring gently, he stepped forward and leaned his forehead against Dean’s.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said softly. “We can fix this.”

“How?” Dean whispered.

 

At twenty minutes until midnight, Dean stood with a knife in hand in the center of a circle. Castiel bit his lip from several yards behind him, and Sam took deep, steadying breaths.

“Hello, boys,” Crowley said suddenly. He appeared just behind Dean and looked him up and down. “Looking a little bit anxious, squirrel. I hope it’s not something I did.”

Dean smiled, whispered, “Crowley,” and turned around. Crowley was looking at the circle below him with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, you’ve lost your touch,” Crowley smirked. “This isn’t a proper devil’s trap at all. Look at all of the incorrect sigils. Tsk, tsk, Dean.”

“It’s not for you, Crowley,” Dean answered easily. He looked down at his knife and then over at Cas. Cas nodded calmly, trusting whatever plan Dean hadn’t yet shared with them. After a deep breath, Dean continued. “I need your help, Crowley.”

“Oh? So soon?” Crowley smiled. “Did I not help you two hours ago? How many times must you disturb my mayhem?”

“Crowley,” Dean warned, “cut the bravado. Look, have we fulfilled my contract yet?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“I have a request for you, Crowley, and I’m willing to trade you something impossible in exchange.”

 

“You realize,” Crowley whispered into Dean’s ear, “that I can’t make any guarantees for you. I show no favoritism, particularly not to the bloody Winchesters.”

Dean nodded, sidling forward into Crowley. With his lips in front of him, he breathed hotly over Crowley’s lips.

“So we have a new deal, Crowley?” he asked.

Crowley squinted, nodded, and leaned into the kiss. While Castiel glared and growled, Crowley traced Dean’s mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“Deal,” he whispered.

 

Midnight came.

No beasts, no monsters, no demons charged. In a cleared space outside of the warehouse, Dean stood comfortably. He relaxed the knife in his grip and waited. Then, ahead of him, there came a woman with blonde hair. She waved her hand with sad eyes as she walked forward.

“Mom,” he whispered. He dropped the knife.

She turned her head to either side of the clearing and raised an eyebrow.

“No one else is here,” she said darkly. “Just me and my eldest boy.”

Dean smiled sadly.

“I’m so sorry, mom. I’m going to make this right.”

Mary Winchester shook her head.

“I killed your friend,” she whispered, “just like I’ll kill you. This is the end, Dean. Be brave and finish what you started.”

Dean nodded, knelt onto the ground, and closed his eyes. He heard her footsteps coming nearer and took a deep breath to steady himself. Slowly, she knelt down in front of him. Her cold hands rested on either side of his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw her eyes shine with regretful disappointment. She shook her head.

“I was meant to stay dead, Dean,” she said simply. “I hope you are able to do what I could not.”

“Goodbye, mom,” Dean said. He shed a tear and swallowed hard. “I love you.”

Immediately, he grabbed the knife beside him and thrust it into her gut. Simultaneously, however, she twisted his head with inhuman strength, snapping his neck with a loud crunch.

Dean fell forward and rolled to the ground on his face. Beside him, Mary Winchester looked at her stomach and smiled.

“John,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. She fell forward, face near her son’s feet.

“Dean!” Sam screamed from the top of the warehouse.

“No!” Castiel shouted, jumping immediately down from the roof.

Sam quickly raced down the rusted metal staircase and ran to Dean’s side. By the time he got there, Mary had disappeared, leaving only Dean’s limp body in the mud. His eyes were wide, still wet with tears.

“Dean!” Cas wailed, holding onto Dean’s hand.

Slowly, the body twitched. The twitch became stronger and stronger until he sat straight upward. Dean blinked. He looked to see the worry in Cas’s eyes and the relief in Sam’s. He looked down and saw the imprint of Mary’s body.

“He’d better move fast,” Dean whispered.

Cas’s brows furrowed.

Sam bit his lip.

“Smoke and mirrors, Cas,” Sam said. He turned to look into Dean’s eyes. “What deal did the two of you make?”

“He has twenty minutes,” Dean answered. “No demons to interrupt. He has to find the three of them and lead them out. If he fails, I get all four souls permanently and this body becomes mine.”

Cas’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “Crowley.”

Dean’s mouth smiled.

“Of course,” Sam tried to understand. “He had to die to find his way there. So what if he does get them out, Crowley? What do you get then?”

Dean’s head shook.

“He won’t get them out,” Crowley shrugged. “Did you see the circle he drew? That's his gateway home. Demons will be here in five minutes to break it down. Meanwhile, I’m repairing his body for my own use. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to watch him fail.”

Dean’s body disappeared into the night. Castiel looked up at Sam with horrified eyes.

“Dean’s in hell,” Cas whispered.

“Five minutes,” Sam gasped. "We have to guard the gate so Dean can come through."


	12. Me or You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has twenty minutes to search hell and find his mother, father, and Bobby. Then he has to find a way to fuel a ritualistic circle that will transport the souls to heaven and will send Dean back to Earth. When Crowley hears Dean's plan, however, how will be react?

Sam quickly loaded his gun.

“This won’t kill them,” he said to himself, “but it’ll slow them down.”

“You have a knife?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Deep breaths came between them. In two minutes, the demons would be there.

 

Dean ran through stone corridors and barred cells.

“Bobby! Mom!” he yelled. “Dad!”

His feet didn’t stop, and he took only a few seconds to look in each cell. As promised by Crowley, no demons were there to interrupt him.

“Please, anyone!” he yelled.

“I wonder,” Crowley’s voice echoed, “where they could possibly be.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean continued down the halls, taking a moment to shout, “I don’t have time for this Crowley!”

He turned one direction and returned from the other. Entirely lost, he could only hold onto the hope that he could find them before his time was up.

“Time works differently here,” he reminded himself. He took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. “Keep going.”

As he ran, Crowley manifested behind him, leaning against the stone walls. Dean raced, rushed, ran everywhere he could see, and Crowley frowned from behind.

 

“Here we go,” Sam nodded. There were knocks against the door of the warehouse. The demons arrived and were slamming against the door to open it. “Think they’ll figure out it’s unlocked?”

 

“How will you get out of here?” Crowley asked when Dean ran by him. “That circle you drew up there needs something to fuel it.”

“I know it does,” Dean nodded.

“Oh? So what are you planning to use?” Crowley asked.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the wall for a break. In front of him, Crowley reached out to put his hands on Dean’s waist. He thumbed over Dean’s shirt.

“You know, you can lose if you want to,” Crowley said quietly. “They don’t need to know you gave up. I can just take the souls, and keep you with me. We could rule together.”

Dean took an unsteady breath and looked down at Crowley’s hands on his hips.

“You’ve lied so much already,” Crowley whispered. He leaned closer, pressing his chest to Dean’s. “What’s one more lie?”

“You’re right,” Dean answered, placing his hands over Crowley’s. He looked up and met Crowley’s gaze. “I’ve lied a lot already.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow as Dean pulled his hands away.

“I need to do this,” Dean said simply, “and I need to know your answer now, Crowley. Do you want to be human?”

Crowley’s eyes flared, but Dean stepped closer.

“Please… tell me now,” Dean said.

Crowley bit his tongue, scanned Dean up and down, and blinked evenly.

“If I was human,” Crowley whispered, “would you choose me over him?”

 

Cas panted. Sweat and blood covered his face as demon after demon charged at him. Beside him, Sam was facing the same struggle.

“Hurry Dean,” Sam said under his breath.

 

“You wanted Sam to be free of hunting once and for all,” Crowley stated quietly. “You knew he could never beat me, and that he would die if he tried. You wanted to save him from himself, from his own desire for revenge. You lied to save me.”

Dean shook his head.

“I did want Sam to be free,” he said. “If he sealed hell, made you human… he would die. I didn’t lie to save you. I lied to save him.”

Crowley blinked slowly, silently surveying Dean.

“This was always about Sam, then?” Crowley whispered. “All of the lies, sending your parents to hell… all of it was about your little brother?”

“Yes,” Dean said immediately.

“So, to fuel the circle,” Crowley prompted.

“It’s me or you,” Dean nodded. “Either you give up your power and lock hell forever, returning to the world as a human, or I sacrifice myself so that mom, dad, and Bobby can be free.”

Crowley stood silently. How dare a human even consider it possible that he could give up dominion over hell? But then... the thought of Dean using his own body and soul to fuel the circle that would save his family... it twisted Crowley's stomach. He bit his cheek. Either option would kill him. Either option would be hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments if you can!


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